Three weeks is not a lot of time in the hustle and bustle of the world, but in paradise it seems like a lifetime. By the third day of their vacation there was no attention paid to the rest of the world, life was a party. Time meant nothing unless it was time to eat or time to consume another beer.

Jack and Barry had gone totally native, rejecting clothing for all but their trips into the city. Brandon had done likewise, except he sometimes donned shorts when someone else dropped in. The first time Maida had a beer delivery the driver nodded his way and kept going. Brandon almost ran back to the shack for clothes.

Alan was evolving as well. His body had become bronzed by the sun thanks to Maida's secret cream. His hair was three shades lighter making his eyes seem a watery blue like the turquoise ocean he swam in every day. Between that and the running with Barry and Bobby on the beach every morning, Alan looked fitter than he ever had. He looked like a young god.

Jack and Barry practiced tai-chi in the shadow of the palms every day and soon had a cadre of boys surrounding them. Theo and Dominic, Alan and Bobby, with the occasional visit by Chu-chu, all went through the routines with them.

And Alan began to take karate lessons from Barry who had finally judged him worthy. Paradise had affected them all, especially Brandon. His mind began to see through the lens once again and he began to take photos of everything.

For as the days crept by more and more people began to arrive in Maida's little paradise. He knew so many people around the island and had many friends, especially the gay kind. But there was also family and the neighbors to consider.

These people would come and go, never wishing to disturb the solitude Maida offered his paying guests. But they were a colorful bunch, so full of life and happiness. Their afternoon naps gave way to gatherings on the patio to avoid the heat of the day. And that's when Brandon became inspired.

For what he saw in these people was a love of life that was gone from the lives of city dwellers. They brought kids who ran around the place and chased one another across the sand. The reality in this scene made Brandon go for his camera.

Maida had played his guests up larger than life and the locals ate it up. No one seemed to mind the two muscular men with the dangling parts. Jack and Barry had become a thing of legend; they were Alan's bodyguards after all.

Maida made sure to tell everyone that Alan was the most famous fashion model in New York. The name of that city inspired awe in itself to those who had never seen such a place. The Teen Star magazine Maida had acquired was worn and well studied; Alan was the focus of great attention.

But the boy sold himself by being social with everyone, and he succeeded partly because Bobby never left his side. Everyone knew Bobby and by now Maida had let the word out, Bobby was going to America. It was like the Fourth of July and Christmas all rolled into one, everyone shared in the joy.

Brandon wasn't left out of the picture Maida painted; he was the photographer of the stars, the most famous camera wrangler in America. And that exaggeration made people want Brandon to take their picture, and he was only too happy to oblige.

And through the lens he captured images that shouted louder than any words he might use to accompany the photographs. The woman suckling her babe, the kids chasing one another with glee, and the old men sharing a laugh under the palms as they threw dice or played mancala.

Human interest, the residents of paradise ... Brandon knew he had a book here, it was only a matter of which publisher he would allow to do him the favor. The colors were brilliant, the place so simple and yet compelling, the people felt so real because they were. In two weeks Brandon had three dozen disks full of shots, more than enough for his needs.

But he did not forget the most important photos of all, Alan and Bobby. For if a coffee table book of the locals would make him a living, the ones he took of these two boys would earn him a reputation.

Alan knew how to pose, and he did it with wild abandon while Bobby sat by and watched. The texture of the trees and the coral, the color of the ocean and the sand, each of these elements made the boy a most worthy subject. And then Bobby joined him.

It was a Tuesday morning and the light was perfect when Brandon took the single photo that would define his career for decades. He knew it was special at the time, he just didn't know how special. Alan was smiling, the trademark of his young career, only now there was another smile beside him.

Alan had posed the shot like he did so many of the others. The boy had a feel for the imagery and Brandon gave him free range to make the choices. This one had a palm tree in it, the smooth trunk placed just so between the two faces and bodies. Both boys looked lean and fit with bodies that would halt a parade or make the stock market crash, bodies to die for.

And the only thing separating the boys was that tree, and a good thing too, they were both naked. But only Brandon would know that, he cropped the shot just above their pubic bush. The swell of their butts was there, the implication being sexier than actually showing it at all.

The look they had, the smiles, the joy in their faces, one would almost think they were in the middle of sexual pleasure ... and they were. For Alan had reached around the tree and grasped Bobby's cock with his fingers, so of course Bobby did the same. Both boys were fully erect and being manipulated by the other.

Brandon wanted to laugh but he took a few photos instead, waiting for that moment he knew would come ... and then they did ... come. The looks of surprise mixed with sexual release made Brandon trip the shutter release, and the sequence was captured.

The boys looked outrageous, sexy and so very much alive at that moment. Faces shining, mouths open, eyes looking upwards and half closed. It was a risk, homo-erotic as hell, but it would sell a million copies.

And much later as Brandon reviewed the days work he came to that photo. Jack and Barry were looking over his shoulder.

"Jesus," Barry said.

"Damn that's hot," Jack said.

"You think?" Brandon asked, but he knew ... this was the one.

They walked the beaches, shooting the boys in the Italian clothing against a backdrop of sea and sand. The island was a garden of colorful flowers and amazing plants, Brandon got that in there as well. Posing the boys together, sometimes back to back showed off the clothing and the models to their best advantage. Theresa would love it.

Oh shit ... Theresa. Brandon had not thought to call her since they had arrived, when was that? There was only a week remaining, maybe she would understand. They took a ride into Nassau and Brandon dug out his cell phone. At least the battery wasn't dead, so he dialed.

"Brand? Thank God, I thought you had died or something," Theresa said.

"Mostly the or something seems about right. Theresa you are not going to believe what this has done for our boy. His smile is back better than before, he looks stunning."

"Good, we need stunning, the world is clamoring for him, Brand. The media is going nuts since I told them that Alan had disappeared for a vacation. I bet thousands of dollars are being spent to find him right now. Everyone wants to get to him first."

"Devious woman, I love that. We'll be back in five days; I've filled almost every disk I have with wonderful photos."

"How wonderful? So has he changed?"

"He's a bronze god Theresa; everyone will be stunned at the image. And I'm bringing home a surprise, something to give you a permanent smile."

"Oh don't tease, what is it?"

"OK ... his name is Bobby Hanna; he's the ying to Alan's yang. Wait until you see the photos my dear, Stanford is going to beat everyone at the Style Awards this spring, I guarantee it."

Silence, Brandon knew Theresa was stunned. The woman cleared her throat. "You mean that? Who is he, what is he like?"

"British father, Bahamian mother. Raven hair and the bluest eyes you ever saw, simply awesome."

"You've posed them together? Can he work ... how old is he?"

"Same age as Alan, his guardian will sign everything we need. Look, this is quite a find, let me bring him home with us and you can meet him personally. He's shy, but I think that's only because he's deaf."

"Deaf? Oh my, now there's an angle. Handicapped employment will make us look very good. Can he talk?"

"Theresa ... Alan and I both love him; he'll be a part of our family. Bobby expresses himself very well, but his life here has been very simple, we need to give him time to assimilate."

"OK, no pressure." Theresa laughed. "I don't want to tangle with Alan over him; your boy plays me like a fiddle."

"Sorry, Theresa. But this little vacation may turn out to be the best investment you ever made. Well see you on Friday."

"Count on it, I'll meet you at the airport."

"Can't wait, hugs," Brandon said and he hung up.

OK, that went well. All hell must be breaking lose around her but she'd never admit it. Brandon smiled. No one would find them in paradise.

"How did the call go?" Alan asked

"The President has the Secret Service out looking for you, they're dragging the rivers for your body ... Theresa is swamped but won't admit it. The world wants Alan Bennett back."

Five days left, Brandon mused. Maida had a Bobby Hanna passport, his own last name which gave him some legal status over the boy. No one would dig too deep unless the boy started making a splash. But this had been the most worthwhile time he'd ever spent with Alan, and he thought back to the day Bobby agreed to come to America.

Jack and Barry were brought in on the news right after Alan was told of Bobby's decision. They had to know, Alan screamed and the men came running as if someone might be murdering their young charge.

But Bobby and Alan were dancing up and down with excitement and Brandon had to spill the beans. Jack took it all in stride when actually he wanted to say "I told you so." The man was clairvoyant; Brandon was convinced of it now.

But dinner that night began the long celebration, one that would bring a myriad of people to Maida's little paradise. Little Bobby was going away to seek his fortunes in America. The news brought Alan into his arms with all the kisses and tears of joy Brandon could handle. Bobby was right behind him.

And much later that night, as the beer took its toll and the day was long over, the three of them returned to the shack. Nothing was said as they showered and dried off, not until it was time for bed. And then Alan took over.

"In celebration, we're going to have sex tonight," Alan said.

"I will do what you ask," Bobby said, the smile was there, the voice said he was nervous.

"OK, chief, what are we supposed to do? I see you found the condoms," Brandon said.

"Yeah, I explained that to Bobby and he gets it. No sharing of fluids until he is checked out. And since Bobby has never been on top before we'll teach him what it takes to be a good lover."

"You fuck me?" Bobby asked, now the smile seemed genuine.

"Oh yeah, and you fuck Brandon," Alan said.

Bobby looked shocked. "Is this good for you?"

Brandon looked down at the boy's nearly rigid cock and smiled. "Very good for me."

Now Bobby was excited, the hardest thing in the room for the moment. Alan produced the tub of Maida's cream. "Now we'll see what else this is good for."

They had left the lights on for Bobby's sake. The boy might not be able to hear the moans and groans of lovemaking but Brandon was sure he'd feel the vibrations. The poor kid looked like he was about to explode from all the excitement. Brandon rolled on his stomach and Alan covered Bobby's cock with a condom and slathered Brandon's ass with the cream.

Tentatively Bobby crawled on top while Alan moved in front of Brandon. Now he could watch Bobby and the boy could read his lips for instruction.

"Slowly, Bobby," Alan urged.

Bobby pressed down and Brandon could only be thankful that he was used to being penetrated. Bobby's cock pressed inwards and then he slid right in and all the way home.

Brandon groaned and Bobby froze, at least he did until Alan smiled.

"It feels good, don't stop now."

The boy's cock began to move, slowly picked up speed and then Bobby started making noises. Alan looked at the boy's face, his eyes were closed, mouth open, and he realized ... Bobby was singing.

The sound came from deep within, almost a humming and yet it was a tune. The boy could not hear, but he could feel and this is what a song sounded like to him. Alan smiled, it meant Bobby was happy.

Bobby's pace was slow and deliberate, but lacking passion. Brandon knew the boy was trying to please him, he just didn't know how. And the sounds he heard the boy make were puzzling, but they seemed to be tied into the rhythm Bobby maintained.

One lone gasp was the only warning Bobby gave a few minutes later, but Brandon felt the boy harden as his cock spurted in the condom. It was the most passionless sex Brandon had ever had, but he understood. Alan didn't say a word as he watched Bobby withdraw, but he saw the condom full of sperm and reached for a towel.

Brandon rolled over as Bobby moved out of the way. What could he say; he had to give the boy praise.

"Thank you, Bobby." The boy's head hung, he knew it wasn't inspired sex. Brandon ran fingers through Bobby's hair and the boy looked at him. "Good things take time to learn." The boy nodded.

It wasn't that Bobby didn't feel passion; he did every time he looked at Alan. But he would learn that much of Alan's passion was derived from Brandon, and that meant he would have to be shared between his two friends.

"He'll be OK," Alan said. Bobby read his lips and nodded.

"I want you to understand something, Bobby. You have strong feelings for me, but that's why I wanted you to have sex with Brandon first. You will be with us for a long time, and if this is going to work you will have to share those feelings with Brandon too. Because to give you the love I have in my heart you will have to share Brandon with me."

Bobby nodded, and Alan continued. "I know he is not me, but he is the greatest part of me and my feelings. I know you understand he is my hero, my savior, and I learned to love him before we ever lay down together. My love for Brandon is not motivated by sex, and you shouldn't feel that way either.

"But if you love me you will have to learn to love him just as much. Now he will become your hero and savior. One day you will understand how important this moment is to our lives, yours, mine and Brandon's. We will become a family, Bobby. Nothing in life is more important than the love we will share as a family."

The emotion in those words overcame Bobby. Alan hugged the boy and looked up at Brandon with tears in his eyes. Yes, Alan had left out nothing; Brandon knew he couldn't have expressed it any better.

And they lay down once again, this time to show Bobby what passion meant. And with Alan's head lying in Bobby's lap, Brandon raised the boy's legs and entered him. The feeling in the room was electric, the emotions kindled a storm of passion and Bobby watched it all unfold.

His eyes beheld the physical and emotional bond between these two. One he loved deeply and one he would have to learn to love. But he witnessed the way Brandon gave in to Alan's desires; it was more than just sex as he had been told. And deep in his heart Bobby knew he wanted to be a part of that love.

And because of the physical contact with Alan he felt the moans of pleasure and saw the desires built. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen and he felt his own passions return. But he watched Brandon's face and saw something he could admire.

This man was not like any of the others he had encountered, there was nothing to fear in those eyes. And as Brandon climaxed Bobby saw the fire in those eyes and knew he would learn to bring out those feelings in this man. Now it was something he wanted to do.

And then Bobby lay down on his back, his head in Brandon's lap and Alan between his legs. He felt such exquisite desire, now he could give Alan something to show his love, but he remembered to look up at Brandon with a smile as Alan slid into him.

Bobby had been fucked before, but none of those men had made love to him. The feelings were incredible, his heart was bursting with emotion and so Bobby opened his mouth and sang of his joy.

Both Alan and Brandon were overcome at the sound of that song. It spoke of childhood, a time when Bobby was little and happiest. And although the words were in Creole, his mother's native tongue, the feelings all came through. Bobby sang to express his deepest joy, and that made him so dear ... he felt loved.

Brandon watched the effect Bobby had on Alan and understood. The boy could love his friend, it was the way he could give of himself and make Bobby feel a part of their lives. Alan was gentle until he felt Bobby respond and then he worked to thrill the boy.

Bobby's song was punctuated by gasps and groans, telling Alan what needed to be done. And as he approached his climax, Alan's hand sought out Bobby's cock which had been bouncing against the boy's belly. The song dissolved into a great long groan of pleasure as Bobby reached out for his own orgasm.

The boy squealed as his cock gushed, coating his belly with an amazing amount of seed. And as he did Alan looked into Brandon's eyes, his own orgasm pumping into the condom buried in Bobby's ass.

The look said everything. It said thank you for allowing me to do this for Bobby, and it spoke of Alan's undying love. For no matter how often Alan and Bobby made love, his deepest feelings would always remain with Brandon.

Bobby's face was one large smile, his eyes first on Alan and then Brandon even as his body came down from that glorious high. It had been better than he could ever imagine, sex had never felt this way before.

"I ... I love both," Bobby said. "You give love so good, my head is crazy." Then the boy gasped as Alan slid out of him and went for the towel.

Brandon smiled down on him. "OK, crazy head, now we can sleep."

They made Bobby shower, his joy evident by the new song he began.

"Does he even know what he's singing?" Alan asked.

"Doesn't matter, he hears it in his head and feels the vibration in his throat. We'll always know when he's happy."

Alan sat down in Brandon's lap and they kissed. "I love you," Alan finally said. "I didn't know how this was going to work; I just knew it had to happen before we all went home."

Brandon smiled. "Bobby knows he's loved, and I think he'll develop stronger feelings for me in time."

Alan grinned. "Just don't forget that vanilla is supposed to be your favorite flavor."

Brandon laughed. "Yes, it is, but a little chocolate every now and then will add to the taste."

"We have weeks to share before we go home, paradise never felt so wonderful," Alan said.

And Alan had been right, paradise did overcome them all. But the day finally came when the world beckoned; New York awaited the return of Alan Bennett.

There were tears and a flood of emotion at the parting. Maida and his boys tried to be brave but to no avail. Bobby had been such a part of their lives. Their guests had become dear as well; no one was without emotion that morning.

"We will bring him back many times," Brandon promised. "This place will always bring us back whenever we can get away."

Maida nodded. "No one ever leaves paradise untouched. You are my dear friend, come back to us soon." And then it was time to go.

The little bus was filled as Maida had decided to take them to the airport. And through his tears Bobby looked back at his friends standing on the beach. His eyes looked to the horizon, a view he was afraid he would never see again. But he waved farewell until the bus slid through the trees and the view was gone.

He suffered, but only until the realization of what was before him crept into his mind. Beside him Alan caught the nervous smile and he grasped Bobby's hand. It would be a day of firsts, and Alan knew he would not let go of that hand until the plane touched down in New York.

The airport scared Bobby; he did not comprehend people riding in the sky on an airplane. But the hugs of good bye with Maida distracted his fears for a while, and then even that was gone.

Now he was alone with these two, people he had come to love in only a few short weeks. Bobby trusted them; he knew everything would be good. The promise of a new life called and he was coming, but only because Alan said it would be wonderful.

The seats in the plane were comfortable, but the seatbelt was confusing. He gazed out the window and then smiled as the nice lady leaned over to hand him a pillow. He felt a little drowsy; the pill Brandon had given him made him relax. Bobby had no idea what air sickness was, but he didn't want to catch it.

And then the plane moved, like a big bus it pulled away from the terminal. Alan gave him some chewing gum and said it would keep his ears from feeling pressure. It seemed silly, but he liked gum and he would do anything Alan asked of him. He saw that Jack and Barry were already chewing.

The plane rolled out to the runway and Bobby looked over at Brandon across the aisle and waved. Brandon smiled and waved back, and then they began to move faster. The whine of the engines he couldn't hear, but he felt the vibrations through his seat. Alan's hand grasped his and they both looked out through the window.

The plane tilted upwards and Bobby suddenly felt light, as if his body was floating upwards. And then he saw the ground drop away and his stomach flip-flopped. With awe he saw the ocean appear beneath them as the plane rose higher and higher, tilting towards the left. The island seemed to grow smaller and then vanished.

He felt Alan's lips on his cheek, a kiss that gave him confidence. And as they rose into the clouds Bobby sighed. No matter that Brandon had hundreds of photos he could see of his island home, he was off to America to make a new one.

The plane flew up the coast and Bobby began to think of America as this huge island. Long ago in school he had seen a map of the world, the continents had seemed like big islands in the vast ocean, but then he could remember little else.

The Dramamine finally made Bobby doze and he leaned against Alan's shoulder. Alan had watched the boy absorb the strange things around him and accept them. It was going to be exciting to show Bobby a strange new place and new people. He wasn't sure New York was exactly the best place to start, but that was unavoidable.

Alan leaned his head back and thought about what was ahead. The work would take on a whole new dimension if Theresa allowed Bobby to become involved. It wouldn't be a hard sell; the photos alone could do that. Give him five minutes with Delveccio and Alan knew he could convince the man that a face with color would broaden his market.

Bobby would be acclaimed on his own merits, together they would be explosive. The boy would have money, something he would have to be counseled about. Bobby had only made pennies from the men he met, that part of his life was behind, now he could reap the reward. Alan smiled, the boy would probably send it all back to Maida, it just seemed like something Bobby would do.

Eventually Alan would have to face the adoring public, the little girls that would want to date him, and the mothers who would be influenced because of that. He represented buying power, the American public's need to obtain goods based upon image instead of need.

Alan dozed off, snapping awake only when the announcement came about their landing delay. He looked over at Brandon and saw the smile.

"Have a good nap?" Brandon asked. "Might be another hour before landing."

"Bobby's still out, when will we get to see the city?"

"Soon, we're probably circling over the ocean, still too far down to see much through the clouds. We forgot something, its cold down there. I wonder how that will affect Bobby."

"He can use my parka, we'll be in a warm car anyway," Alan said.

"Maybe Theresa will think of it and bring something," Brandon said. "She does stuff like that."

"I can't wait to see her face when she meets Bobby, I love it when she freaks out," Alan laughed.

"He won't be able to work for a while; a lot of paperwork comes first. You need to start schooling, and so does he. I'm sure we can find tutors, maybe one for the both of you."

"I was just sitting here thinking about all those little girls again," Alan said. "I hope we travel a lot, maybe then they won't catch up to me."

"Staged events will work best, but they'll spot you everywhere we go. Must be that adorable face of yours they find so attractive," Brandon said.

"Then dye my hair and paint me brown, I'll hide behind Bobby," Alan laughed. "But I'm sure his day will come soon enough."

"Yeah, and he's less equipped to deal with it than you are, its going to be hard for him."

Alan looked up at Jack and Barry in the next row. "I'm confident; we have them to keep us safe."

"Yes we do, Bobby will have to learn those rules too," Brandon replied.

The speakers clicked on again. "Good Afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen. We'll be landing in about ten minutes from now. Sky is clear over New York so you'll get a good view of the city to your left as we approach. Temperature on the ground is thirty-eight degrees, winds light out of the west at less than seven miles per hour. Thanks for joining us today, the seatbelt sign will come on shortly. Have a good day and welcome to America."

Alan leaned over and kissed Bobby's cheek to waken him. The boy smiled and opened his eyes.

"Alan," Brandon said, and the boy turned to look back. "You won't be able to do that anymore, at least not in public, OK?"

"Yeah, I know," Alan replied.

They stared out the window, and Bobby gasped as the city came into view. "So big, so tall ... Nassau looks like small village now," Bobby laughed.

A moment of renewed tension and then they were on the ground, rolling towards the terminal. Bobby gazed in wonder at LaGuardia airport and he put his hand on the window.

"Cold, Alan ... is very cold here?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, it's winter, we wear many clothes, and sometimes that's fun. You've never seen snow have you?"

"Snow ... no, in pictures, looks pretty."

The plane taxied to the gate and the doors were opened. Alan grabbed Bobby's hand.

"Come, we go see the city," Alan said.

Brandon smiled, now even Alan was picking up Bobby's stilted speech. Paradise did affect them all, welcome back to the real world.

Customs was another matter; the ink was still wet on Bobby's visa so they were pulled aside. The agent gave them the eye until Brandon produced the boy's passport and the letter from Maida giving him permission to travel and be under Brandon's care.

"Purpose of the visit?" The man asked Bobby and the boy looked puzzled.

"He's deaf but he can read your lips," Brandon offered.

"You're all together?" The man asked, looking at Jack and Barry standing behind Alan. "Are you gentlemen carrying?"

Jack shook his head. "Don't need to," and he produced his ID. "We work for Mr. Bennett."

Then the man looked at Alan. "Do I know you?"

Alan smiled. "Maybe, if you have a daughter under sixteen."

Now the man really smiled. "Alan Bennett, of course. Both my daughters are big fans." And then he looked at Bobby. "And my youngest is also deaf."

"We hope to get Bobby in a good school for the deaf here, I imagine his visa requirements will change when that happens," Brandon said.

"Yes, but you'll have plenty of time to work that out. I don't see any problems here." He began to stamp their passports as Alan turned to Barry and said something. Barry dug into his carry on and produced the publicity photos, big eight by ten's of Alan.

The custom's agent finished their paperwork and looked up at Alan. "Will you give me the names of your daughters?" Alan asked. And right there he personalized each photo for the girls, signing his name with a flourish and handing them across the counter.

"Wow, they'll be so surprised ... thank you," The agent said.

"You're very welcome, and thank you too," Alan said before they walked away.

"What happen?" Bobby asked.

"Alan charmed pants off the custom's man," Brandon explained. "All good." Lord, now he was doing it too.

They moved out of the custom's area to the baggage section. They had nothing to declare and Brandon carried all the paperwork for his cameras, plus his union card. Ten minutes later they were out in the lobby where the driver waited, this time with Brandon's name on his card. A very smart move, Alan's would attract attention.

Alan was digging in his suitcase for the parka to give Bobby when the driver produced a large coat box. "Ms. Stanford said to give you these," The man said.

Brandon opened the box and pulled out two new parkas, both of them bright orange. The Chinese prototypes he guessed, good news ... the guys were moving forward on Alan's suggestions. Bobby loved the color of course, it just screamed Bahamas.

And then they were out through the doors and into the waiting limo.

"Alan sweetie ... My God, you look wonderful," Theresa said, giving the boy a huge kiss before she turned to Bobby and extended her hand. "You must be Bobby ... simply delightful."

Bobby grinned, brushed the hair from his face and gave Theresa his brightest look. Even Brandon heard the woman gasp. "Lord, Brand ... you're going to give me a heart attack with these boys ... they both look stunning."

Brandon smiled, moving over to allow Jack and Barry some room on the seat.

Theresa smiled at their tanned faces. "So you all had a good time I hope."

Jack smiled back. "No issues, we vacationed too ... guess we can't charge you for that."

Theresa waved him off. "You brought them home safe and sound; I'll still pay the bills. Did you eat on the plane?"

Alan shook his head and Bobby smiled. Theresa kept looking back and forth between the boys. "Good, let's go eat. I can't get over the pair you make, will he model do you think?"

"Brandon has a ton of photos, we posed in the Italian clothing, Delveccio might just be surprised," Alan said.

"Good thinking, but we can't use him yet ... but we sure can tease Delveccio, can't we?"

"Yeah, Bobby will attract a whole new segment of the market," Alan replied.

Theresa smiled. "Always thinking aren't you, utterly amazing. So what shall we eat?"

"Italian," Alan said, and Brandon laughed.

"We've been on a fish and chicken diet for weeks," Brandon said. "Now you'll spoil him, Theresa."

Theresa laughed. "Haven't you figured it out yet? Alan is my best young hope for the future. Spoil him ... that's what I do best. But if you can wait an hour to eat I'll take you all out, I have to stop at the office first, OK?"

"Sure, the boys can snack if they need to," Brandon said. "I want to leave all the disks with Marvin anyway so he can clean them up. Wait until you see what paradise looks like."

Bobby leaned over and asked Alan. "What is Italian food?" Of course he never had learned to whisper so every one heard.

"Spaghetti ... you eat before?" Alan replied.

"Oh ... yes, Chef Boyardee."

Alan smiled. "A little better here I think, but you get Italian."

"Cool, man," Bobby replied.

Theresa looked Brandon in the eye. "You did good ... again."

The limo pulled up in front of the offices and Jack got out opening the door, old habits back in play. They all followed Theresa into the lobby where Bobby came to a standstill, for there on the wall was a ten by twelve foot photo of Alan.

The boy grinned. "I say before, you big star, Alan."

Alan smiled back. "Some day you too, brother."

Bobby's eyes got moist. "Yes ... we brothers."

It took about five minutes for the buzz to go through the building, Alan is back. By the time they reached the second floor the hallway was packed, smiles and greetings from everyone. Carlos stepped forward and hugged Alan.

"Boy, what have you done to your hair ... it looks incredible," Carlos said, and then he spotted Bobby. "Madonna ... a second beauty."

"Carlos this is Bobby Hanna," Alan said.

"I am pleased to meet you ... such beautiful hair, so natural," Carlos said. "What's his secret?"

"Sun and sea, I doubt Bobby ever used conditioner in his life," Alan said.

"We'll have to treat him very special," Carlos said, and Bobby smiled.

Brandon went off to find Marvin, Theresa's computer guru, so Alan led Bobby into the lounge.

"There you are, welcome back, kiddo ... and who's this?"

Alan smiled. "Hello Denise, this is Bobby. Bobby this is Denise Rogers, a very famous model."

Bobby smiled too. "I see you before."

"You have? And where was that?" Denise asked.

"My mother had the magazine, I was just little ... you have pretty face," Bobby said.

"Thank you. Alan, did you discover him?" Denise asked.

"He's not modeling just yet, maybe next year. Bobby was raised in the Bahamas; this is his first time away from there."

She smiled. "Take it from a pro, sweetie ... Bobby is going places." "We going to eat Italian," Bobby said, misunderstanding Denise's comment, but she smiled.

"You do that dear, have fun in New York while you can," Denise said.

Barry found them a few minutes later and said Theresa was done, everyone was waiting in the lobby. Alan said his good-byes and they rode the elevator down.

Through the tall glass windows Alan saw it was beginning to sleet outside.

"Bobby, you should zip up that parka, it's going to be cold and wet outside. I don't want you to get sick.

"The rain is cold, will it snow?" Bobby asked.

"Maybe, you want to see that?" Alan asked.

"Oh yes, very much," Bobby answered.

Theresa had them clustered inside the doorway as the limo driver pulled up into place.

"Ok, let's go boys," Theresa said. "Try not to get wet."

Jack cleared the door first, rushing across to open the rear door of the car. Brandon huddled behind them, giving the boys a little shove. They had to hesitate for someone rushing along the sidewalk, a fur lined parka, hood pulled close. Brandon stepped forward to allow the person to pass, and then it happened.

He felt a sharp pain in his side and turned ... another pain lower on his back, and then he started to fall. He saw the face, the angry features, and the hatred ... Monica. She held the bloody knife in her hand, going for another blow.

"Knife," Alan screamed, pushing Bobby and Theresa out of the way, reaching for Brandon as he fell.

Monica saw the boy's hands reaching for Brandon and she slashed out. Alan pulled his head back, avoiding the main thrust of the blade but feeling a burn on the side of his face. Alan's face twisted in anger as he grabbed her wrist, wrenching it. His right arm cocked back, and he delivered a blow to her face with the heel of his hand.

Monica's blood splattered them both as her nose and right cheekbone shattered. The knife fell from her hand and they both watched it fall towards the sidewalk. Then she was jerked away by the impact as Jack hit her, slamming his body into hers. With his arm around her neck Monica went down and Jack fell on her. The only sound a sickening crunch as her neck twisted and broke on impact with the sidewalk.

"Brand," Alan screamed and fell to his knees on the slush covered concrete.

"Alan ... " Brandon replied, staring up at the boy. The pain was making him dizzy, something was terribly wrong. "Alan?"

The sidewalk was covered in ice and blood. Theresa held Bobby against the car, the both of them crying at the scene before them. Barry tore the side of his shirt right off and pressed the cloth to the side of Alan's face. Jack stood over Monica's lifeless body as the sound of sirens filled the street.

Alan reached out for Brandon and Barry held him back. "No, don't touch him, you might make it worse.

Alan screamed, his voice echoing off the building and then he sobbed, falling into Barry's arms as the sirens came closer, red and white lights flashing through the icy downpour.

"He's going to be all right, he's going to be all right," Barry said, holding Alan closer.

Brandon looked up, his eyes refusing to focus; everything seemed to be growing dim. He could feel the ice falling on his face, but nothing else. And the last thing he saw was the terrified faces inside the glass wall of the lobby...then he blacked out.

The sounds came to him first, a low beeping that he knew was a heart monitor. He was in the hospital, he recognized the smell. Slowly Brandon opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling ... why was he here?

The images came rushing back, Monica, the knife ... Alan. "Alan?"

A hand slid down his arm and grasped his hand. "Alan?"

The boy leaned up over his face and Brandon gasped at the bandage on the side of Alan's face. "Alan ... Oh God," Brandon said, tears suddenly blurring his vision. Monica had hurt the boy and suddenly he wished her dead.

Alan saw the tears, the pain. "Shh, everything is just fine now ... it's just a scratch."

"The bitch ... " Brandon began.

Alan laid two fingers on his lips and Brandon stopped. "She's not going to bother us again," Alan said. "She died in the attack."

"Ahh ... how long have I been here?" Brandon asked. He felt funny, his body wouldn't move, it must be the drugs they'd given him. He looked up into Alan's eyes and saw the pain, the tears brimming over.

"Brand ... Oh Brand," Alan moaned as he began to cry in earnest.

Brandon raised his arm to brush away the tears and it felt like lead. Tubes and wires were attached to his arm and he looked at them, realizing that even moving his head was a chore.

"Alan, tell me ... please."

The boy sobbed, looking down at his face. "Brand ... you're paralyzed, she ... she damaged your spinal cord."

Alan laid his head on Brandon's chest and sobbed, and with great effort Brandon ran his fingers though the boy's hair ... then he blacked out.

There were moments when he seemed to rise above the darkness, hearing the monitor for a moment and then plunging back into the abyss. He'd lost all sense of time and his mind reached out, willing himself to feel something, commanding his body to respond ... nothing.

He heard the voices around him, Alan ... Bobby, and others, nurses and doctors he guessed. But finally his eyes opened and his head seemed to clear.

"Mr. Clark? I'm Doctor Goodwin ... how do you feel?"

Brandon laughed, his voice made a cackling sound. "Water," He said.

The doctor put a straw to his lips and he sipped, the cool liquid running down his parched throat. "How long have I been here," Brandon asked.

"Five days, but we've kept you sedated to keep you calm. Do you remember what happened?"

Brandon nodded. "I was attacked ... stabbed, how bad is it?"

"The paralysis is caused by an injury to your spinal cord. The point of the knife penetrated the spinal column, displacing a disk and injuring the cord. If you could feel anything of your lower extremities then you'd know that we have you immobilized to prevent further injury. "

"How long ... how long will I be like this?" Brandon asked.

"I'm sorry; it's too soon to tell. Once the swelling is reduced we'll take a closer look."

"Is the paralysis permanent?"

"I don't like to guess Mr. Clark. You have a chance, but I can't give you the odds. Unlike most nerves in the body our spinal cord doesn't regenerate very well if at all. The wound caused damage to the structure; we may be able to fix that with surgery.

"I can't say how well you'll recover because it's too soon to tell. But I've seen patients with worse damage eventually get back on their feet. It will take extreme patience on your part, the surgery I mentioned, and a lot of physical therapy.

"But the greatest factor in all this Mr. Clark is you. The body heals with time, but what you think is of paramount importance. The body responds to your thoughts, the healing process will occur much faster if you maintain a positive attitude."

"I have every reason in the world to get better," Brandon said.

"Right now you're heavily medicated, but now that you're awake I'll reduce your meds. Not completely, but it will allow you to feel pain Mr. Clark, at least I hope so. It will give you a place to focus your thoughts and allow us to diagnose the damage."

"Thanks Doctor. I'll try my best to help you," Brandon said.

Goodwin smiled. "Your young friends have been here every day; it's driving the nurses crazy. So the sooner we get you healed the better for all of us."

"Alan ... he was hurt ... "

"Yes, a nasty cut to his left cheek. Your boss, Ms. Stanford had Doctor Kiplinger called in to work on him. I'd never met the man before but I know his reputation as a plastic surgeon. I saw the wound, there will be a scar I'm afraid. But Kiplinger has magic hands they say, it may save the boy's looks."

Goodwin wrote something down on the chart in his hand and handed it to the waiting nurse.

"Reduce the dose to one hundred and fifty milligrams. If he complains of the discomfort call me and I'll boost it back up."

"Yes, Doctor," she said.

"Mr Clark, I'm reducing your meds. Try not to move around too much, it will only increase the pain. But without the full medication you may regain some feeling in your lower extremities. Give it time, Mr. Clark, recovery will not happen quickly. By tomorrow we'll see about getting you back on solid food."

Goodwin left and the nurse replaced the bag of fluid attached by tubes to his arm. She adjusted the drip and smiled. "Are you thirsty, Mr. Clark? The doctor says you may have clear liquids to drink, would you like some ginger ale?"

"Yes, please," Brandon said. "Uh ... nurse?"

"Nancy ... yes?"

"Is Alan ... is my boy still here?"

"Mr. Bennett ought to be back from the cafeteria by now; he's been living in the waiting room I believe. The staff has been looking out for him and that other nice young man."

"Bobby ... have they been here all along?"

"They come every morning and don't leave until we tell them they have to go, but that nice bodyguard is always here with them, so don't you worry."

"Thanks, Nancy."

"I'll go see if they're back and tell them you're awake, I'm sure they'd like to see you."

And then Brandon was alone with his thoughts. Recovery ... a nasty word because it described almost nothing. At least he could move his head and arms; his body just stopped working somewhere in the middle.

Monica ... dead ... good, and he put aside all thoughts of her. Poor Alan, the boy had been scared out of his wits because of that bitch. Brandon tried to remember the attack but everything was vague. Someone would have to tell him what had happened, someone other than Alan.

Jack ... poor Jack, he had to feel guilty. Brandon vaguely recalled Alan yelling something ... yes, the boy had yelled 'knife.' It was part of the training he had received from Jack, poor Jack. He would feel like he had failed.

Brandon heard the door open and turned his head. The motion caused a flash of pain in his back, but not too bad. And then his heart felt joy.

"Brand ... you're awake," Alan said. His face had a smile, but not the big smile.

"Hello, lover," Brandon said. "I hear you've been hanging around, you don't have to do that."

Alan's eyes held tears, but the boy was trying to be brave. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

And then Alan leaned down to kiss him and Brandon felt the warmth as their lips touched. He managed to raise a hand to Alan's face, avoiding the bandage.

"You feeling better?" Alan asked.

"Yes, now I feel pain and that's better than nothing," Brandon said. "And you?"

Alan touched the bandage on his face. "Two days and we'll see what I look like."

And then Brandon began to cry. "It's ... it's all my fault, I'm so sorry, sweetie."

Alan leaned in close and put two fingers on Brandon's lips. "Stop that, you did nothing wrong. She was crazy on drugs, Brand. They found a huge amount of amphetamine in her blood; she was out of her mind."

Brandon smiled as Alan wiped the tears away. "Such a brave boy ... you have no idea how much I love you right now."

And the old Alan smile came through. "I love you so much, we'll get through this."

"Oh God ... what about Bobby and Theresa?" Brandon said.

"Bobby is right here with me, he's been with me all the way. Theresa is over every evening. As you can imagine this is all over the news, she has to deal with all that."

"Can I talk to Bobby ... yeah, Bobby and then Jack," Brandon said.

"I'll go get Bobby for you," Alan said.

"You can stay too. What I have to say is for the both of you," Brandon said.

And then there was Bobby's face. The smile gone, fear in his eyes.

"Bobby ... are you OK?" Brandon asked.

Bobby nodded and Brandon reached out a hand for the boy. The grip was soft, anxiety was written all over the boy's face.

"I'm sorry Bobby; you didn't need to see all this," Brandon said. "I just want you to know, nothing has changed. I still want you to stay here with Alan."

And now tears rolled down the boy's face, he had been so afraid that he would be sent back. Brandon nodded and placed a hand on Bobby's chest.

"We have love Bobby ... you and me and Alan. It will grow in your heart as it does in mine. You have so much to do here. I will still help you."

Bobby smiled through the tears and leaned down to kiss Brandon.

"Bobby loves you," he whispered, kissing Brandon again.

"Both of you will have to put up with me like this for a while," Brandon said. "The doctor says it's too soon to tell what will happen. But he tells me I have to work hard if I'm going to walk again, it might take a long time."

Bobby nodded and looked over at Alan. "We'll be here for you, whatever it takes," Alan said.

Brandon grimaced as a pain shot through his back and down his legs. He gasped and then laughed.

"Are you OK?" Alan asked.

"Yes, I felt pain in my legs and that's a good sign, I can still feel them. Did you two eat dinner yet?"

"No, we're waiting for Theresa," Alan said. "She's been with us a lot Brand; I think she likes the mother image."

"She's a fine lady, Alan ... don't mess with her. Is Jack here?"

"I'll go get him, he's wanted to talk to you," Alan said. "Go easy on him; he's kinda fragile at the moment."

Brandon nodded and the boys left replaced a few moments later by Jack.

"Jack ... you OK?"

The man's face said it all, he felt like a failure.

"Brandon ... I ... "

"No kiss of hello?" Brandon said.

And Jack leaned over, the kiss brief and sad. "I'm so sorry ... I just ... "

"Stop right there," Brandon said. "All our defenses were down, she came out of nowhere and it's not your fault. I remember Alan yelling 'knife.' You taught him that, he remembered. That means you're a good teacher, Jack ... and I don't want to lose you. We need you more than ever."

"Oh God, Brand ... I feel so bad about this."

"Then we'll have to overcome that. The doc says I may walk again and that means a lot of physical therapy. I want you there Jack, you and Barry. Don't stop teaching Alan, and find time to include Bobby. I'll need them both fit and strong to help me recover from all this."

Jack took his hand; the eyes were warm and loving. "I'll be here for all of you, don't worry."

"One of these days when we both can deal with it you'll have to tell me, Jack. I don't remember anything of importance. Let me know when you have the time. I had no idea she was so insane."

Jack frowned. "I still have an appointment with the coroner's office. I broke her fucking neck and they want to talk to me about that."

"I'll tell Theresa to get her lawyer involved; you were just doing what she hired you to do."

Brandon grimaced as another flash of pain shot down his leg, and then he laughed at Jack's look of concern.

"Pain ... it's a good thing. Means I can feel something down there. I imagine there will be a lot of pain before this is all over. I'm just happy to be alive," Brandon said.

Jack smiled. "Pain management, that's something I understand."

"Good, then we'll get through this together. Are the boys doing alright?"

"Alan cried a lot, but having Bobby there certainly helped. I was worried about Bobby for a while, hell of a way to be introduced to this place, but he's calmed down."

"I told him nothing would change, he would stay with us and feel loved," Brandon said.

"He and Alan are sleeping in separate bedrooms, I thought you should know."

"I was afraid of that," Brandon said. "We started something good down there; I don't want it to end."

"Alan won't sleep with him until you come home, he told me that. I don't mean to butt into your business but the boy has been talking to me about things."

"Nothing wrong with that, I don't need to know what he said."

"We went to church last Sunday; he prays for you ... we all do."

"Thanks Jack ... I needed to hear that."

Jack smiled. "You are lucky in love, Brand. That boy won't even talk about sex without mentioning you. Bobby will have to be patient, that's all."

"I just don't know what will happen with me. If I can't move I can't perform, he needs me to be whole again."

"Then we work on it," Jack said. "He has a career to think about, Theresa is planning to keep him very busy I hear. You just do whatever it takes Brand; we'll all be here for you."

There were moments when Brandon knew that pain was his best friend. He didn't reject the feeling, he embraced it. And over time they got to know one another quite well.

But the pain was progress, or so the doctor said, and then it took on a whole new dimension. Physical therapy was nothing more than a new level of pain, a costly form of torture. The male nurse that administered the therapy soon realized he had two assistants in Alan and Jack, and they weren't going away.

His therapist was named Brian, a dear man with a perpetual smile, although Brandon wondered how he could be that happy with all the pain he saw every day. But maybe it was because Brian wasn't on the receiving end, it seemed logical enough. Or maybe it was because he was gay and in awe of the men who helped him administer the healing.

Jack and Alan would strip to the waist when they lowered Brandon onto the whirlpool bath. His muscles were weak and he had to be supported in every way as he was placed in the bathing chair. But finally they would lower him into the water and stand back.

Brandon caught Brian's glance and he almost laughed, but he kept their relationship strictly professional. And it was there in that bath during the second month of his recovery that Brandon discovered something wonderful. His cock got hard.

Being naked there was little he could do to cover the condition and Alan quickly noticed.

"Oh God ... you can feel it?" The boy asked.

Brandon nodded, his face split in the biggest grin.

Brian smiled. "It seems Mr. Clark is getting some feeling back." And he scribbled it all down in his little notebook."

Two days later Doctor Goodwin was back.

"I hear good things about your reaction to therapy." Brandon couldn't believe the man said it with such a straight face. Did everyone know he'd popped a boner?

Goodwin looked at his chart. "You're down to oral meds, solid food intake is good and you're managing the pain very well. How would you like to go home?"

Brandon laughed. "I'd miss your hospitality, but please ... kick me out."

Goodwin smiled. "I just might save the nursing staff after all, but they'll be mad at me for this. I can send you home with a few qualifications. Bed rest, daily visits by a therapist and round the clock nursing care for the first week until you adjust.

"I don't want you sitting in a wheel chair just yet; it will put too much pressure on your spine." Goodwin walked to the foot of the bed and drew back the sheet exposing Brandon's feet. He drew the tip of his pen across the soles of Brandon's right foot and watched it jerk. "You feel that don't you?"

"Yes, it tickles."

"I want you back in two weeks for another CAT scan. I can almost say with certainty that your spine is recovering, good news for you. But don't push it; there is still a good bit of healing that needs to take place. Your disk is still ruptured and I think we can fix that in a couple of months, but I want the nerves to heal first.

"I don't want you to think this is it. If you fall at this point the damage may increase and that will end any chances we have for a full recovery. Get some rest, allow others to fetch and carry for you. But think positive, Mr. Clark, you've come a long way."

"Thanks Doc. You think there's a chance I'll walk again?"

Goodwin smiled. "It's a better chance now than it was two months ago. And just because you can gain an erection I don't want you to think sex is back in your life. You may have spontaneous ejaculations on occasion; enjoy that, but nothing else. Once you're strong enough to sit in a wheel chair I'll reconsider that recommendation. Be happy, at least it still works."

Goodwin left and Nancy came back in the room. "Leaving us I hear ... it will break a lot of hearts when you go."

Brandon laughed. "I assume you ladies will miss Alan and not me."

Nancy frowned. "Don't put yourself down, Mr. Clark. Some of us still prefer a real man over a boy any day." She patted his arm. "I'll go see if your lunch is ready."

They carried him home in an ambulance the following morning. Two months, seven days and ten hours since he'd been admitted. Brandon knew he shouldn't count the time like that, but he'd never felt so happy to come home.

The condo had been outfitted to accommodate him. There was a hospital bed in the living room and one in the bedroom he shared with Alan. They felt it was important he feel a part of their lives again and Brandon could only be thankful.

They sat down to a meal, Brandon in his bed at one end of the table and the others spread out down the length. Raising his head meant putting some pressure on his spine but Brandon said nothing and the initial pain soon passed.

Alan became the consummate nurse, even to the point of emptying the bed pans. Brandon shuddered at the memory of when they removed the catheter from his system. He was home and life was back to normal, well almost.

Brandon endured the daily torture session, the baths and the nurse poking and prodding him. Then it became routine and they moved on.

Theresa was a frequent guest; Jack and Barry were always present. They were a family once again. And as such they guided Alan's business life and the limited social engagements he was required to attend.

The scar on his face had healed; the plastic surgeon had done a wonderful job. But there was still a thin red line, faint and barely noticeable, but they knew it was there. Christmas and New Year's had been spent at Brandon's bedside, he now felt guilty about that.

Teen Star had carried the news and a photo of Alan with the bandage. The outpouring of sympathy was overwhelming and Theresa had to hire two clerks just to handle the mail. But Jack had done her one better, he put Alan online.

Fan sites seemed to spring up overnight; the outpouring of adolescent love embarrassed the poor boy to death. And then he began a blog, setting up his own website and getting Bobby involved. The response doubled when Alan introduced Bobby to the world. Theresa couldn't ignore that.

Brandon hadn't been home but three days when Jack came over with a big smile on his face. "Someone is here to see you," He announced, and he led Maida and Chu-chu into the room.

It was a rousing reunion although Brandon couldn't drink any of the beers because of his meds. Bobby was overjoyed to see his friends and Alan sat back with a smile.

"You engineered all this didn't you?" Brandon asked.

Alan laughed. "Someone had to pay for the tickets."

"I keep forgetting you have all that money now," Brandon said.

"Look who's talking, lots of royalties coming your way."

And Alan was right, they were sitting pretty. But with Maida there Theresa soon had Bobby under contract, his career was off and running. The visit lasted only a week before Maida begged off; he'd left paradise in the hands of two sixteen year old boys. This time Bobby didn't cry when Maida left, the boy was growing up.

By June the boys were in such demand they were working full weeks in the studio. The products Theresa cultivated were diverse; the boys were loaded down with free samples of clothes, shoes and electronic devices. It really was like Christmas.

Theresa didn't have them travel; it was studio or location shots only. Steve Barnes had picked up the work on Brandon's recommendation and the man did an incredible job. So when they all gathered at the condo one evening Brandon thought it was because they were going to talk work. It was something else entirely.

Alan popped a few bottles of champagne that Theresa had brought, not the cheap stuff either. And when the glasses were passed around Jack brought a box into the room. Alan took the floor.

"With due respect to Steve over there, Brandon is the greatest photographer I've ever met. Many people seem to agree with me. I had nothing but time on my hands while Brandon went through a long recovery and something came to mind.

"A lot of his fellow photographers contacted me, asking about him and how he was doing. These folks, Steve included, responded to my idea and we pooled our resources to come up with this."

With that Jack opened the box and handed Brandon a large book. The title said, "One Man's Paradise, Treasure of the Bahamas." And there on the cover was paradise in all its glory. Brandon was speechless.

Jack passed around the copies and everyone sat turning the pages. The people, the places, it was a wonderful look at paradise. And then Theresa found the photo that would bring Brandon such fame.

"Oh My God ... " Theresa said, and Alan smiled.

"I think she's stuck on page twenty-three," Alan said.

And Brandon knew which photo it was even before the page opened. The colors, the boy's smiles, the suggestiveness ... it all made for an outstanding photo. For there in front of him was the very definition of paradise.

Theresa cleared her throat. "Were you naked?" She asked, and Alan smiled at the blush in her cheeks.

"Everyone was, we only put on clothes to come home," Alan laughed.

"Alan ... " Brandon said, and the boy turned. "Thank you ... it's wonderful, the best present I ever received."

Alan came into his arms for the kisses he deserved, and everyone in the room smiled, especially Bobby. Brandon saw the boy over Alan's shoulder and beckoned him over. Alan saw the smile on Brandon's face and moved over so Bobby could get his hug.

Brandon looked deep into Bobby's eyes. "I saw something in you the day we took that photo ... something special. And here you are with your own contract, your own way of making a life for yourself. I saw all that potential inside of you and now it's come true. I am happy for you Bobby; you are so dear to me."

They all spent several hours talking about the book and then the party split up. Jack and Alan carried Brandon into the bedroom and went through the nightly ritual, and then Jack left.

"Thank you, the book was sweet, even better than I imagined," Brandon said.

Alan came over and sat down beside him. "All your friends helped, it was really an amazing thing."

"It's the sweetest expression of love you've ever shown me ... well except for our other activities. I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to bring that up," Brandon said.

"No, it's OK ... maybe we should talk about it. What did the doctor tell you about having sex?"

"He said I would get erections and probably cum, but what we call sex isn't there just yet ... I'm sorry. I know you must feel pretty left out, sex was a pretty big part of how we shared our love."

"I want you so badly ... but I'll wait, no matter how long it takes," Alan said.

Brandon nodded. "You're so brave ... but have you considered sleeping with Bobby?"

Alan stood up and walked to the other side of the room and back. "No ... I can't, not while you're like this ... I would feel guilty. I know we shared him, but I could never betray your trust."

"And what if I said it was all right, would you make love to him?"

"Oh Brand, why would you say that ... I don't want him without you there."

"But sweetie ... I am here."

"But you can't ... oh, I see. Would it turn you on enough?" Alan asked ... a silly smile creeping onto his face.

"One way to find out, but I think it's as close as I can get to having you. But what will Bobby think?"

Alan smiled. "I think he'll love the idea. Should I go ask him?"

"Please, my cock is getting hard already," Brandon said.

Alan went for the door and stopped running back to Brandon's side. "I love you ... no one ever treated me like you do." And then he laid a big kiss on Brandon's lips, his tongue sliding into a more than willing mouth. And Brandon gasped when Alan pulled back.

"You better hurry," Brandon groaned.

Alan was back in less than two minutes, a very naked Bobby by his side.

"Bobby ... is this good for you?" Brandon asked.

"For you anything," Bobby said, his smile lighting up the room.

The boys approached Brandon's prone figure and pulled back the sheets. Brandon had taken to sleeping in shorts during his hospital stay. There was now a mighty tent in his boxers. Carefully Alan slid them off and Bobby giggled.

Alan slid off his own shorts and they stood naked beside Brandon's bed.

"What should we do?" Alan asked.

"I know Bobby wants you to, go all the way," Brandon suggested.

"Seriously?" Alan asked.

"Yes, I'll just watch quietly until I explode," Brandon laughed.

And so there beside him, not four feet away, Alan lay down with Bobby. It was the best for all of them Brandon knew, and if it worked it would ease a lot of his tension. For a week he had looked at the boys as they paraded their nudity without a thought to what effect it might have.

Paradise had taught them to be proud of their bodies, he could never undo that. That sense of ego was vital to their success as models ... as human beings. For just being adored by the public left a hollow feeling, it was so impersonal. But the boys had one another and Brandon would encourage that shared adoration, their lives depended on it.

He watched Alan begin the ritual, using his skill to heat Bobby up to the melting point before he gave the boy what he wanted. Bobby had such beautiful nipples and Alan attacked them with glee.

And the boys seemed to focus on one another. It was important to the role they were playing out in front of Brandon. They would give him the most exciting time of his life if they could, all to see if they could bring him off by remote control.

The boys licked and chewed on one another, driving the passions up slowly, knowing very well where this was all going. And as their bodies shifted around to seek a higher form of pleasure Brandon felt a tingling in his balls. Oh God, yes ... I need this, he thought.

In the beginning Bobby had started off with a very mechanical way of sucking, but that all changed with practice. Now Brandon watched him take Alan in his mouth and suckle that cock like a baby going for a tit. It was a brief tease, sometimes painful Brandon knew, but then the boy slid his mouth down over Alan until he could handle no more.

Alan was a cock lover, knowing full well his skill affected others ... especially Brandon. But now he turned that craft on Bobby and he ended up deep throating the boy. Brandon knew that cock was in the back of Alan's throat where it was being teased. Alan liked to swallow a lot, stroking the head and driving the owner crazy. As if to prove that Bobby gave out a loud groan.

Alan teased for a while, enjoying Bobby's efforts but looking for the bigger game to begin. And when he'd had enough Alan pulled away and turned around. Bobby gazed up at him with a smile as Alan raised the boy's legs.

It had taken Bobby a while to enjoy being rimmed, maybe all of forty seconds that first time. Brandon remembered the boy's gasp as he laid his tongue between Bobby's ass cheeks and the groan of sheer delight when he plunged in. He reacted the same now as Alan possessed that hole with his tongue ... and Brandon felt his cock throb.

Just watching Bobby thrashing around in response to that tongue gave Brandon a thrill and a sense of anticipation. He had watched the boys become competent lovers over the weeks they shared in paradise, and yet now there was a tinge of jealousy. No, he had to put that aside, after all they were doing this for him ... with him.

And when Alan judged the heat was turned up hot enough he raised his head and moved between Bobby's legs. Brandon leaned over to watch the penetration and heard Bobby groan. The sound made his cock throb, and that was a good thing.

Alan's slow purposeful strokes drove Bobby crazy with passion, all the moans and groans said as much. For his part Alan was focused on the feeling he was creating, and so was Brandon. For deep inside he felt something happening, something he had not felt in a long time.

And when Bobby shuddered from the pleasure so did Brandon and that brought back the pain. But he would not surrender; he just focused harder on what his body was feeling. Then Alan gasped, the juices were beginning to flow. His pumping increased and Brandon could almost feel that cock in his rear.

"Oh God," Brandon gasped as he felt the pressure rising ... it was going to happen.

Alan kept slamming himself against Bobby's ass, driving the boy mad and fully aware of what it was doing to Brandon.

"Oh ... ahh ... cumming," Alan groaned, and that was enough.

Brandon almost screamed as the orgasm pushed him to the edge and then he saw Alan's smile as the boy cut loose inside Bobby. They shared a glance as Brandon's cock erupted, the pleasure mixed with pain ... but he didn't care.

Even Bobby looked to see what was happening and he saw Brandon's cock erupt, the spurts rising and falling back on his stomach. Brandon let out a huge groan and found himself tingling from head to toe. OK, now he could do something with his feelings.And he began to laugh with relief.

From then on Bobby slept in Brandon's bed with Alan. They all knew it was only a matter of time before it would be the three of them once again. And it allowed Brandon the peace of watching them sleep on those nights when his thoughts kept him awake.

Fate ... that little four letter word. Fate had made him cross that bridge one sunny afternoon, otherwise he never would have known Alan existed. His life would have been empty; he would never have known the joy of loving someone so dear.

Now that they shared their life and love with another, Brandon felt Alan could finally understand. Just by crossing that bridge and reaching out to someone Brandon had changed his world. Alan would have his day, perhaps he already had. For them there would be no end ... only beginnings.

And thus ends a long and wonderful story, and yet I promise an Epilogue very quickly to tie up all the loose ends. As I have said before, characters never die in my mind, they just go to sleep.

For those who need further stimulation I recommend a vist to youtube, key words "Male Fashion Model." There you will find enough beauty to keep you up nights, and I don't mean losing sleep.

I'm sure I will hear from many of you about ending this story here. It has all been but a glimpse of these lives I've created. I cannot go on spinning a tale with so many other things begging for attention. And wherever you are I hope you find a bridge in your life ... just don't be afraid to cross it.

Peace,
Chris James


On to the Epilogue

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